


before the dawn

by Akane21



Series: malfunction [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Family, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Secret Identity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:29:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27730810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akane21/pseuds/Akane21
Summary: They both have nightmares; only Mikoto doesn’t speak about hers.
Relationships: Kakuzu/Uchiha Mikoto
Series: malfunction [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2028439
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	before the dawn

_“Itachi, let’s go,” her voice breaks, and Mikoto takes a deep breath, trying to calm the shiver._

_She looks around just in case—no, there’s no one here. But she can’t waste time; if Fugaku wakes up, if he notices that she’s not there..._

_"I won’t go anywhere, mom," Itachi says suddenly, too serious for a child. "And you shouldn’t, either."_

_Mikoto looks at him, confused._

_"What are you..." she says, holding still sleeping Sasuke close to her and outstretching her other hand towards Itachi. "Come on, don’t argue! We have to leave before—"_

_"Before what, Mikoto?" A familiar voice from behind interrupts her. "Where are you going?"_

_She turns around—Fugaku is standing in the doorway, leaning against the wall. Dressed only in a loose black kimono, he still doesn’t look even a little relaxed—his brows are furrowed, lips tightly pressed together, eyes watching her intently._

_"Mom wants to leave," Itachi’s voice in the silence is unusually loud._

_Mikoto opens her mouth but can’t find a single word. Somehow it’s clear to her: she won’t be able to make an excuse, she lost her chance by not staying in bed tonight._

_She’d bet everything on this attempt—and lost._

_Sasuke turns restlessly in his sleep, and Mikoto holds him tighter, as if trying to shield him from Fugaku’s cold gaze._

_There’s nowhere to run._

***

Mikoto opens her eyes.

With an effort, she calms her wild heartbeat—the old fear twists her insides again, not letting her breathe.

A dream, just a dream... reminding her of her mistakes again.

Sometimes she still feels like it’s not over.

But everything is in the past.

Even what she never wanted to lose.

She takes a deep breath and turns to her side; it seems like she’s not the only who has trouble sleeping.

Kakuzu is sitting on the bed, his face in his hands. As if sensing her gaze, he raises his head and looks at her.

“Miyuki... Did I wake you? Sorry.” His voice sounds hollow.

Something tightens painfully in her chest, and Mikoto shakes her head hastily.

“It’s okay.” She sits up as well, shifts closer and puts her arms around him, resting her head on his shoulder. “Nightmares again?”

Kakuzu doesn’t respond, only hugs her tightly.

After returning from Iraq, he hardly sleeps—those few months have taken a toll on him. And even though it’s getting a little better now that time has passed, Mikoto can see that it’s still hard for him.

But she can’t do anything to help except just be there.

Mikoto strokes his head, gently ruffles his hair, whispers quiet soothing words, and eventually he relaxes—not much, but still.

He says nothing except ‘Miyuki’, almost inaudibly, and this one word is filled with such tenderness.

Mikoto has gotten used to this name over the years, but sometimes she’d like to hear her real one from him.

But it’s such a small price for happiness, really.

“Better?” she asks softly, moving away a little.

Kakuzu nods. He isn’t smiling, but he looks much calmer, and Mikoto leans forward to kiss him.

“Do you want to tell me?”

“There’s nothing to tell,” he frowns. “Nothing that you want to know.”

He clearly doesn’t want to talk about it; and Mikoto understands. It must be hard to remember something like that.

She ruffles his hair lightly, and his gaze softens again.

“It’s alright.”

It does get difficult sometimes. But they’re together—and this makes Mikoto hopeful that everything will be alright.

“Mom, dad,” they hear and turn to the door.

Fuu is standing there, rubbing her eyes with one hand and holding her plush kitty with the other. “You not sleeping?”

“No,” Kakuzu says with a quiet sigh. “Did we wake you?”

Fuu shakes her head. “I just woke up. Can I sleep with you tonight?”

“Did you have a bad dream?” Mikoto asks, concerned; she wouldn’t want their daughter to start having nightmares as well.

Fuu shakes her head again. “I’m bored without you,” she explains.

Kakuzu smiles just barely noticeably and shifts slightly to the side.

“Come here, kid.”

“I’m an adult!” Fuu pouts, coming up to the bed.

Kakuzu laughs, quietly but genuinely, and Mikoto doesn’t hold back a smile either.

He has barely laughed or even smiled in the last six months, and Fuu is the only one who manages to liven him up.

“If you’re an adult, I’m the President of the States,” he finally says.

“You’re lying,” Fuu objects seriously. “I saw Mr President on TV, and you don’t look like him at all.”

“It’s for safety,” Kakuzu reaches out to ruffle her hair. “The President is a very dangerous position, you know. So the guy on TV pretends to be me while I do all the real work.”

Mikoto covers her mouth with her hand while Fuu looks at them, as though seriously considering this.

“You’re making it up,” she says finally and frowns, looking so endearing.

“Who knows,” Kakuzu says with a grin.

“I know!” This time, Fuu laughs. “You’re so funny sometimes.”

Kakuzu chuckles again and shakes his head.

Even in the dark of the bedroom, he looks tired—no surprise, considering his frequent troubles with sleep—and Mikoto strokes his shoulder gently, earning another half-smile.

“Take Kitty,” Fuu says suddenly and shoves the plush into Kakuzu’s hands; he takes it, a bit confused, while Mikoto watches them with a smile. “She helps me sleep,” Fuu explains, “and she’ll help you too. No bad dreams!”

The expression on Kakuzu’s face is a mix between guilty and thankful.

“Thanks, Fuu,” he says, putting the plush near his pillow. “I appreciate it.”

She nods, smiling brightly.

“Well, come here,” Mikoto says.

Fuu climbs onto the bed between them, tosses for a while, as if not sure who of them to hug first—and finally grabs them both by the arms.

They lie there for a while, not saying anything—to be honest, they don’t really need words.

“Don’t go,” Fuu asks suddenly.

“Where would we go,” Mikoto says softly, kissing the top of her head.

“Somewhere,” Fuu mutters sleepily. “I always wake up and dad’s gone.”

Kakuzu sighs heavily. “I’m sorry.”

“Mm.”

Fuu turns to him and presses her forehead against his shoulder, falling silent.

Kakuzu runs a hand through her long hair and holds her closer. He’s still smiling, but this smile fails to hide the sadness in his eyes.

He really is rarely at home—deployments take up almost all of his time. Mikoto doesn’t blame him for that, but she does miss him when he’s away; just like Fuu.

“It’s okay,” she says quietly, reaching out to touch his face. “You’re here now.”

Kakuzu closes his eyes, pressing her hand to his cheek. “I’m resigning next year,” he promises. “Fifteen damn years... I think I’m done.”

“If that’s what you want,” Mikoto says softly.

She isn’t going to force him—she knows how important serving in the army is for him—but it’s hard not to notice the way it affects him. After each deployment he returns a little different; and Mikoto doesn’t want all of this to break him one day.

Nightmares and sometimes weird reaction to loud noises are probably the least of possible consequences.

Mikoto is always there for him, but she wishes she could be doing more.

Though right now she doesn’t have to think about it. Kakuzu and Fuu are here, and everything is alright.

She holds them, closing her eyes.

And the rest of the night goes without nightmares.

***

In the morning, Mikoto wakes up alone, and for a moment familiar fear grazes her again—but then she hears voices from the kitchen and relaxes.

There are times when she thinks all her life is just a dream, one that will imminently shatter once she wakes up—back in her old house, bound to a man she never loved, forced to turn a blind eye to his violent acts.

Perhaps even after all these years she can’t truly believe that she’s free.

Perhaps the reason for that is the fact she’d left her sons behind.

Mikoto blinks a few times, chasing away the tears, and forces herself to get up.

Running away, she promised herself that she’d return for them; but she was never able to.

Walking into the kitchen, she sees Kakuzu near the stove.

“Morning,” he turns around, probably having heard her steps. “I made breakfast, if you’re hungry. Fuu has eaten already.”

“Oh, thanks. Sorry I slept so long.” Mikoto sighs and rubs her forehead. She hopes that the redness of her eyes isn’t too apparent—or that it can be excused by too much sleep. “Must be the weather.”

“While I’m home, you have every right to rest as long as you like,” the corner of his mouth twitches up slightly, and Mikoto can’t help but smile back. “It’s only fair.”

“Maybe, but still.” Mikoto doesn’t argue, though, instead coming up to him and holding him tight. Kakuzu kisses her hair, chuckling lightly, and she allows herself to rest in his arms for a while.

Not for too long, though.

“Morning, mom!” Like a little tornado, Fuu runs into her, hugging tightly, and Mikoto gasps quietly. Smiling, she leans down and hugs her back, gently ruffling her hair.

Somehow Fuu always manages to make her feel better—to almost forget about everything.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Mikoto says softly. “Had a good sleep?”

“Yeah!” she beams, pulling away, and turns to Kakuzu. “Where’s my coffee?” she asks demandingly, and both of them fail to stifle a laugh.

“Here,” Kakuzu takes a mug from the counter and hands it to her. “It’s hot, so careful.”

“I know!” Fuu says a little indignantly, taking the mug.

She walks out of the kitchen slowly, carrying the mug in front of her, and it looks endearingly funny; Mikoto smiles again.

“Fuu is still a child, she shouldn’t drink too much coffee,” she still says with gentle reproach.

“It’s not that much,” Kakuzu ruffles his hair. “There’s more milk and sugar than coffee.”

“Alright, then,” she nods, not hiding a smile. It must run in the family—Fuu likes coffee as well, though only sweet, as regular coffee seems too bitter to her.

It’s funny that even their story began with coffee. To think how long it’s been since their meeting at the coffee shop where Mikoto had taken a job almost immediately after moving—or, rather, fleeing—to America. Back then, she had no idea that her life could be like this. That she would be happy.

But does she have a right to this happiness?

Her smile bleaks, and Mikoto turns to the window hastily.

Too quickly she’d allowed herself to forget. To live like a normal person, as if nothing ever happened. As if that Mikoto had never existed, as if she’d always been Miyuki.

But it’s not true.

She had left too much behind—and she should have come back.

“What’s wrong?” Kakuzu asks, gently touching her shoulder.

“If you knew,” Mikoto begins, not looking at him, “something terrible about me... what would you do?”

She doesn’t see his face but can sense his confused gaze fixed on her.

Bitterness rises in her throat again: she doesn’t deserve any of this. Stolen name, stolen life—she should have died many years ago if she’d failed to save her sons.

The memories of them don’t disappear but seem to fade with each passing year, and Mikoto hates herself for that. Again and again she tells herself: she won’t be able to do anything, Fugaku won’t let her near them, Shisui promised her to take care of them, he’ll keep his word; again and again she realizes that she simply betrayed them.

“What are you talking about?”

Once again, Mikoto almost says what she wants to; but stops herself at the last moment.

What if Kakuzu doesn’t understand? It’s not some minor thing that she can justify lying about.

Mikoto presses her lips together, and a heavy wave of guilt rises from within.

She doesn’t know what to do.

She’s so pathetic.

Kakuzu is silent, his hand still on her shoulder, and Mikoto really wants to tell him everything, to admit her deceit—that she’s not who he thinks she is, to admit what she’d done; but she can’t.

And she doesn’t fully understand why. Is she afraid that he won’t accept her? In all the time they’ve been together, she could never bring herself to tell him the truth—even though he’s always supported her.

She thinks that such distrust will hurt him even more now.

“I can’t,” she manages to say weakly. “Not now. This is... too complicated, I’m sorry.”

She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath—she has to calm down.

Kakuzu holds her from behind, buries his face in her hair; and it becomes just a little better.

“It’s alright, Miyuki,” he says suddenly. “Tell me when you’re ready. Whatever it is, we’ll get through it.”

Mikoto squeezes his hand tightly, smiles weakly—and she’s only glad that he doesn’t see the tears running down her face.

Someday—someday she’ll tell him.

**Author's Note:**

> so I’ve been slowly working on a sequel to _malfunction_ , but somehow here’s a prequel instead. what a twist, eh? I feel like it adds a slightly awkward flair to the whole story.


End file.
